Doggerel 14: p p p pick up a penguin

Another Scribbler’s submission, this time a poem on the theme of penguins.


On my chilly archipelago,
All bitter squalls and knee-deep snow,

I pines for his love, all bereft and forlorn,

And marooned on her rock off the coast of Cape Horn,

From Spitsbergen, South Georgia’s the other side of the Earth,

In the cool constant sunlight, for what sunlight’s worth,

Without her beside me, I think that I might

As well be consigned to perpetual night

For the whole twelve months, not the usual six,

As I curse providence’s perfidious tricks 

How fate cruelly gazed on me  and laughed,

And made me fall for the fickle belle of her raft

How unpromising the auguries,

For ill-matched couples such as these?

For an ursine hunk, pristinely furred

And a flirty, flighty, flightless bird,

It’s a sorry, tawdry, doomed affair,

Between a penguin and a polar bear,

How cruel that Cupid’s bow should appear

To have hit its target in the wrong hemisphere,

So I’ll hide his pain beneath my pelt,

Until the day the ice caps melt,

And console myself that it’s somehow romantic

To wait for our tears to meet in the Atlantic,

Unrequited love in the artic chills,

An abiding tale as old as the hills

And assiduous readers will potentially spot,

It’s a metaphor for something, but who can say what?


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